


Spilled Wide Open Again

by Addisonzella



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Pre-X-Files Revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 01:58:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6137356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Addisonzella/pseuds/Addisonzella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I read storybycorey ‘s Spilled Wide Open and wanted it to continue.  Mulder and Scully, hurt and comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spilled Wide Open Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [storybycorey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storybycorey/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Spilled Wide Open](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5798893) by [storybycorey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storybycorey/pseuds/storybycorey). 



> I read storybycorey ‘s Spilled Wide Open and wanted it to continue.
> 
> Before reading this story, read Spilled Wide Open.
> 
> Disclaimers: Don't sue. All I have are student loans ;)
> 
> Reviews are cherished!

Mulder grips Scully’s door handle so hard that his knuckles turn white. He is tempted to slam the door shut, to kick it, to throw himself against it and unleash all of his anger and frustration onto an inanimate object. Instead, he slowly pulls the door shut, the handle moving into place with a final “click.” Outside the apartment, Mulder braces his arms against the doorframe and rests his head against the cool wood. Why is everything so difficult with Dana Scully? She pushes him away time and again. He knows she’s hurting; he feels her pain just as deeply as she does. He’s sure of it. 

Mulder slowly inhales while counting to 5. He holds his breath and then exhales in the same rhythm. Scully's yoga practice is rubbing off on him. His jeans are clinging to him awkwardly; he had come in his pants mere minutes before. 

He hears delicate footsteps approach from the other side of the door and realizes that Scully is moving to lock her front door. She intends to brace herself in her fortress and keep everyone else on the outside. Mulder does not hesitate. He pushes the door open forcefully, confidently, but still slowly and carefully enough to not slam it into Scully. 

She gasps in surprise when her front door swings open. She was sure Mulder had already left; was already halfway to his apartment by now. 

He shuts the door behind him and gazes at her silently. Clenching and unclenching his fists in his pockets, he wills himself to remain calm. Scully’s face is red with rage, belying the fact that she is mortified and angry. She had let her guard down, allowing Mulder to witness her in a moment of weakness. She had cried in his arms, and then ground herself against his pelvis until she came undone with pleasure. 

Remembering this, Scully cries out in fury, throwing herself at Mulder with all her strength. She beats against his chest while he silently stands there, taking it. He lets her physically exhaust herself to the point where her legs falter ever so slightly; her knees weak. Sensing his opportunity, he scoops her up into his arms. Scully is so small. He forgets that sometimes. At work, she always exudes self-assurance and poise, taking no bullshit while under the armor of a suit and heels. Cradled in his arms, however, she is a tiny thing. 

Scully huffs and presses her palms against Mulder’s chest, succeeding only in making him clutch her more tightly. She does not want to need him. She tries to be indignant, to seem disinterested, but she simply ends up losing her composure all over again. She sobs, gripping his shirt with her little fingers; grasping at him like a child. Mulder feels her breath on his collarbone and her tears are soaking his neck, wetting his shirt collar which was already damp and streaked with black mascara from her earlier crying episode.

“Shh, Scully. Shh.” He rubs her back and he feels her stomach tighten through their clothes as she pulls her legs up to straddle his waist. She is clinging to him with all her might. Mulder slowly walks towards her bedroom, gripping her body to his. His knees graze the bed frame and he makes an attempt to ease her down onto it, but she grips him tighter, gasping--terrified of losing contact with him. 

Desperate to prove his devotion, Mulder continues to clutch Scully in his embrace. He does not move from where he stands next to her bedside and smooths her soft hair. He runs his fingers through a tangled knot on the back of her head, indicating where he had grabbed a handful earlier, in the throes of passion. 

Scully’s sobs become less and less frequent, and she makes a Herculean effort to steady her breathing. Her breath still hitches every few inhales, though. Her clutch on him loosens ever so slightly, so that the top of her head is no longer pressing up under his chin. Mulder gently rests his forehead against hers and they breathe in sync. Scully inhales while Mulder exhales. Mulder inhales and Scully exhales. 

He wants to comfort her, to whisper to her about how he knows that she is hurting, how he would never leave her, how much he loves her. How he is devastated that he cannot give her children, but only for the fact that she wants them so badly. He would give her anything, if he could. But to say so would overwhelm her, and she would certainly push him away. 

Scully’s upper body goes limp and she lies back on her bed, their torsos forming a right angle. She is still gripping his hips with her legs, still emitting small hiccups of air. Mulder doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to breach the silence; to give her an impetus to kick him out. He doesn’t even want to look directly at her, afraid his gaze will seem predatory. Scully brings out the caveman in Mulder.

He cannot help himself, however, and hazards a glance at her. His eyes narrow in lust when he sees that the top buttons of her blouse are undone. Moisture is drying over the fabric covering her breasts, indicating where he had licked and bit her through the material earlier. He is painfully hard again, and adjusts his pants in an effort to find relief from the pressure. 

Somehow, Mulder finds the courage to lower himself onto the bed next to Scully. His Scully. When she does not object, he brushes his fingers across the back of her hand. Neither one of them speaks as they look into each other’s eyes. Scully turns her hand up so that her palm is open. Feeling emboldened, Mulder holds her hand, stroking her fingers with his own. 

They fall asleep like this, feet hanging off the side of Scully’s bed; Mulder still wearing his shoes and both of them fully clothed. Their hands are intertwined as they breathe in unison.

Sometime during the night, Mulder wakes long enough to notice that Scully is curled up against him, her fingers gripping his shirt just as tightly as they had earlier. This time, however, her face is relaxed in sleep. She is shivering, so he clutches her to his chest with one arm, and uses the other to pull her comforter down. He kicks his feet against the bed, freeing them from his shoes. Gently, so as not to wake her, he scoots towards the head of her bed, never letting her go. Lying back, he grips Scully to his chest, coming to rest with her body held flush on top of his own. He pulls the comforter up over both of them, and rubs his hand down her back in an attempt to warm her up. The movement of his hand slows as he drifts back to sleep.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [PODFIC of Spilled Wide Open Again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6996649) by [Addisonzella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Addisonzella/pseuds/Addisonzella)




End file.
